


A Day at the Cinema

by h4t08



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/M, Gen, Sister Julienne-Focused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:42:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26943868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h4t08/pseuds/h4t08
Summary: What should have been one day at the cinema, an indulgence really, turns into a life forever changed.
Relationships: Bernadette | Shelagh Turner/Patrick Turner, Sister Julienne/ OC
Comments: 10
Kudos: 16





	A Day at the Cinema

“This was never supposed to happen.” The glow from the fireplace softly infiltrates the otherwise dark room. “I’m too old for this.” Anger claws at the pit of her belly, embarrassment causing her to look away from the only woman who understands her predicament. “I’m happy at Nonnatus.”

“You can be happy somewhere and still want more.”

Growling under her breath, she stands and paces back and forth along a string of toys left behind by the children. “I’m not supposed to want. I’m supposed to be happy with this life I chose because… because…,” she stops dead in her tracks, unable to find the words to finish her sentence.

“Because?”

She turns towards the simple cross adorned upon the mantle with her hands clasped together. The words she has recited for over thirty years and the prayers she knows by heart lay dormant on the curve of her tongue, their power to heal, to give her answers to the mysteries of life now causing her heart choke in anguish. “This was never supposed to happen.”

“Sister Julienne.” Shelagh captures her hand and pulls her back down onto the sofa. “Why don’t you start from the beginning.”

“I suppose…,” she sighs, “I suppose it started with ‘Sound of Music’.”

** April 1965 **

It feels exciting.

Exciting and forbidden.

To be wrapped in clothing befitting of a woman not afraid to show off her curves. To treat herself to not only a movie ticket, but also to delicious treat. To sit in a seat and do nothing for the next three hours.

At times, guilt rumbles within her belly, but it quickly gets swept away with each soaring note or the sound of a child’s laughter.

Checking her reflection in the mirror, she runs her finger through her hair and sweeps it back behind her ear. Her shoulders feel lighter, the smile reflecting back is soft. She can’t help but to think that she needed a day like this, that everyone deserves time to enjoy themselves.

 _But I am a nun, a woman who had given an oath to give without expecting anything in return, to live without the vanity of beauty or the desire to want_.

Abruptly turning, she slips out of the bathroom, the bright lights of the lobby beckoning her to the counter where the smell of popcorn makes her stomach growl. She had skipped lunch after returning from the Calthorpe residence, deciding instead to experience an afternoon as a woman rather than as a nun.

Feeling for the loose change in her purse, she surrenders the amount needed to the young girl – _Grace Thesbin_ , her mind supplies, _whose mother spent sixteen hours of her labor cursing her husband for her predicament_ – and holds her box of popcorn close to her chest.

Returning back to her seat, she snuggles against the velvet just as the lights dim.

_I am still a nun. Nothing has changed._

_Besides, a day at the pictures would never hurt anyone_.

** Present **

“Did you enjoy the movie?”

A small smile ghosts along her lips, the taste of buttery popcorn still on the tip of her tongue. “Very much so.”

“Did anyone recognize you?”

She bites down on her bottom lip as she glances down at her clasped hands. “Sister Monica Joan was in the market when I walked by. She instantly recognized me, however that was the only time she had seen me out.”

“How did it all change?”

“During Christmas, I had received a letter from Anthony Newgarden. Normally, he would send his Christmas wishes with a donation to Nonnatus House, however, this time, he had sent several tickets to use for any movie at the cinema in Greenwich. He had written in his letter that he had seen ‘Sound of Music’ with his family and was reminded of the afternoon his father and I watched ‘City Lights’.”

“It sounds as if ‘Sound of Music’ had left its impact on several people.”

She meekly gives a half smile. “Ordinarily, I would have given those tickets to charity or to be used in the summer fête, however I didn’t have the strength to do it. After the threat of Nonnatus House shutting its doors for forever, I had struggled to find my purpose and had selfishly gone through a moment of rebellion; not against the housing council, but against my very own sisters.”

“You had told me many times that that was natural.”

“For someone younger, yes.” Her sigh is defeated, her body draining at the immense weight of shame and guilt it has been carrying. “I’m in my sixties. I shouldn’t go through something like this.”

“You’ve been through so much change these past few years, the fate of Nonnatus House was just the tip of the iceberg.” Shelagh reaches out, her palm warm and steady. “It is only natural to want something safe, a way to escape from all that burdens you.”

“You know as well as I that we are not afforded that luxury.” She pulls her hand away. “I had felt myself getting lost within the unknown waters of wants and desires. I tried to escape to the Mother House, especially when I had felt myself pull away from the everyday rituals of the religious life that I would always look forward to, however, Mother Mildred specifically asked for me to continue my work in Poplar.”

“Did you not tell her of your struggles?”

She slowly shakes her head. She had come close, of course, but at the last minute she would make up one excuse after another.

“When did you meet—”

“When I had seen ‘The Flight of the Phoenix’. It was the first movie I had seen I had seen in the Greenwich cinema.”

** January 1966 **

She feels rebellious as she gingerly settles down into the velvet seat.

She had foolishly thought that her trek to see ‘Sound of Music’ would be a one time excursion. She certainly would have never assumed that she would be walking into another cinema, yet, here she is just waiting for god to strike her down at her desire to enjoy a few hours to herself.

She allows herself to eat a few handfuls of popcorn as she waits for the lights to dim.

 _At least the theater is not as busy_. She glances around, her heart fluttering when when she doesn’t recognize anyone. She had to pay for the bus fare into Greenwich, however, she is of peace-of-mind knowing she will not run into anyone that might recognize her from Poplar.

“Excuse me.” She timidly looks up to find a man to match his baritone voice. “Is anyone sitting here?” He indicates to the seat next to her.

She glances around the nearly empty theater before back at him with wide eyes.

His smile stretches all the way up to his kind eyes. “I know there are other seat, however, every time I come here, I sit in this seat.”

 _He seems genuine enough_. Clutching the popcorn box close to her chest, she shakes her head.

“Thank you.” He settles down into his seat, his own box of popcorn resting on his knee. “I promise,” he leans over and murmurs, “that you can have the arm rest for the whole movie.”

For some reason, that makes her laugh. “Thank you, I think.”

“I had to share my arm rest with a portly gentleman when I had seen ‘Thunderball’. We kept bumping elbows every time a pretty woman winked at James Bond.”

Before she can even think of a response, the lights dim and the projector flickers to life.

True to his word, the man next to her kept both his elbow and arm close to his body, leaving the arm rest open for her to use. When the final credits of the film started to glide along the screen, he turns to her and bows his head. “Not as bad as I thought it was going to be.”

“Thank you for sharing your armrest.” She gives him a kind smile before turning away from him.

Just as she walks through the door, she hears him call out, “You’re welcome.”

** Present **

“That seems innocent enough.”

“He’s kind.” Her chin dips down to her chest. “Always kind.”

She feels like she is drowning in the silence that surrounds her. She should be used to it by now, yet, it’s this one that makes her skin crawl. Funny enough, the great silence was supposed to start ten minutes ago.

“What happened next?”

** February **

“Hello. Funny seeing you here again.”

She glances up to find the same man she had seen the previous month smiling down at her. “Yes,” is all she can muster. She wasn’t supposed to be here at all, yet the call – no! – the desire to come back was too strong for her to resist. She reasons that it has been a particularly hard week, however, she never did like falling back on excuses.

“You don’t seem like the war film type.” He settles down in the seat next to her, one that he does not consider his own.

“It was either this or ‘Dracula’ and I would never willingly pay to watch something like that.” She has seen too much death this week, too much blood. The sight of it, even if it were fake, would send her over the edge.

“I’m not he biggest fan of horror either.” A ghost of something flutters along his features.

For the first time she looks at him, beyond the kind smile and chatty persona. He’s an older gentleman, possibly a few years older than her, but not by much. While his clothing has the jagged touches of normal wear and tear, she knows the the ring he wears signifies that he is well educated. _He looks as shabby as Doctor Turner was before he had married Shelagh._ “What is your favorite genre?”

“I like a good thriller or mystery, something to keep me on the edge of my seat.” He pops in a few pieces of his popcorn. “What about you?”

Before ‘Sound of Music’ it had been quite a long time since she had been to the movie theaters; she doesn’t count the afternoon she had spent watching ‘City Lights’ with Charlie. Her cheeks flush at the memory of their hands clasped. He had kissed her knuckles when his son had disappeared into the study to make a few phone calls but it didn’t go any further than that. “I don’t think I have a favorite. It has been quite a long time since I have been to a cinema.”

He looks mildly shocked. “How long?”

“Since before the war.” It had been quite a few years before that, but she keeps it to herself.

He lets out a low whistle. “Wow.”

She has a burning desire to explain the length of time, yet, any and all explanations would require her to reveal that she is a nun and that is not a conversation she is ready to have; at least not out loud. “I assume you come here often?”

“Ever since they had opened after the war.” He looks fondly at the the nearly empty theater surrounding them. “My wife and I used to enjoy the matinees when she was still alive.”

While that little piece of information doesn’t necessarily shock her, she is still saddened by it. “I’m sorry.”

“We used to sit over there together.” He indicates with his eyes at the seats they had sat in the previous month.

“You are not sitting there now.” Perhaps it was quite blunt for her to say that, the need to stay obedient is well hidden in a dark corner just like her habit. _Or perhaps Sister Monica Joan’s knack for stating the obvious is rubbing off on me_.

However, instead of giving her a sarcastic reply back, he smiles at her. “No, I am not.”

And before she can give any thought to his words, the lights dim and the screen flickers to life.

** Present **

“What happened after the movie ended?”

“I had stood up, said goodbye, and left.”

“And you didn’t given any indication that—”

“No.” She doesn’t allow Shelagh to finish that thought, her denial just as piercing as her gaze.

“I’m sorry. It was never my intention to imply that you had sought out his affection.” She pauses for a moment to gather her thoughts, her eyes glancing up towards the ceiling for inspiration. “It’s just…,” she opens her mouth, yet snaps it shut in a huff. “It doesn’t seem as if…,” she bites down on her bottom lip.

She knows what she is trying to delicately say, guilt churning in the pit of her belly at being short with the only woman she trusts to be he voice of reason. “He still doesn’t know that I am a nun.”

“You’ve known him for almost a year.”

“He is not a religious man, so the topic never came up.” She hates being this flighty. She used to play this role when she was younger and her mother would pinch her ear every time.

So, it is no surprise that when she looks up, she finds disappointment furrowing along Shelagh’s brow. “Out of all the years I have known you, you are never afraid to hide from the truth.”

“There was never any reason to hide from the truth, simply for the fact that it never affected my personal life.” She stares at her clasped hands. “It was selfish of me.”

Shelagh reaches out to her, the strength of her palm having the ability to pull her from this darkening hole she is sinking into. “When did all of this change?”

“Change?” She’s stalling, unsure of her confidence to bring to light what she has been carefully hiding the past year.

Shelagh gives her a sympathetic smile. “When your relationship went from small talk about films to something more.”

“It was quite gradual. I didn’t see it until it was too late.”

“There must have been a point when you spent more time thinking about your next rendezvous rather than anything else.”

** April **

“You seemed to have enjoyed that movie?” She savors the last few pieces of chocolate he had shared with her as the busy theater empties.

“What’s not to like? Witty jokes at the expense of Catholics and Rosalind Russell as the Mother Superior.” He takes her empty popcorn bucket and adds it to his own to throw away. “Jean would have loved the movie.”

“Your wife?”

He nods, his eyes melting into soft petals of memories. “We both met each other when our respective catholic schools had a dance.”

Curiosity begins to work its way through her subconscious, despite her need to keep their friendship at bay. _After four months of sitting next to him during several movies and talking about everything from the weather to the civil rights movement, I still do not know his name_. She knows that it has to stay that way. “You’re Catholic?” She bites down on her unruly tongue.

“Guilty.” He gives her a sly smile that makes her heart skip a beat. “However, I do not believe in the religion anymore.” He gives her his undivided attention despite the amount of people still meandering around them. “What about you?”

“Church of England.”

“Ahh! You must be well versed in an assortment of Catholic jokes.”

She laughs under her breath. “Not off the top of my head, no.”

“Oh! Come on!” He boisterous voice garners the attention of a few people, but he pays them no mind. “Don’t be kind on my account.”

Playfully rolling her eyes, she glances around to make sure that no one is within earshot when she murmurs, “What is a priests favorite food?” He shakes his head. “Holy cheese.”

He throws his head back and barks out a laughs. “Wow, that was awful.” He looks back at her, his blue eyes shimmering in laughter. “Funny, but quite awful.”

“Surely you can do better,” she deadpans.

“I can, but all of mine are quite naughty.”

And while she has heard all of those naughty jokes, usually at the expense of herself or her fellow sisters, she keeps that information to herself. Seeing that the theater is now empty, she stands up from her seat and dusts off the little shards of popcorn.

“Umm,” he abruptly stands as well. “There’s a nice tea room around the corner from here. Would you, I mean, I would like to…,” he presses his lips into a fine, white line. “I would enjoy your company.”

For the first time since she has known him, she feels her cheeks flush bright red. She actually wants to say yes, to continue their absurd conversation, to laugh and joke, to learn more about him.

But, she cannot. While she has indulged herself with these unsanctioned trips to the cinema, she cannot possibly allow herself to become close to someone who is not associated with the order or the community of Poplar.

It would not be right, sinful even.

“I’m sorry, but I have to be going.”

“Then perhaps next time?”

She gives him a kind smile. “Perhaps.” She know, however, that there will not be a next time. This folly has to end right here, right now. “Have a good evening.”

“Andrew,” he quickly calls to her when she turns away from him.

“Excuse me?”

He gives her an enigmatic half smile where the lines of his dimples reaches all the way up to his eyes. “My name is Andrew.”

And, instead of returning the kindness of offering her name, she bows her head. “Have a good evening, Andrew.”

** Present **

“How many times had you gone to the cinema before then?”

“Oh.” she looks towards the ceiling, her memory of all those days like a blur. “Maybe ten or twelve times.”

“What did you tell the Sisters when you had gone to the cinema?”

She hangs her head. She had to lie, outright and without remorse, in order make sure she could effectively explain the time she needed and the bus fare. “I had told them that I was helping new nurses at the Royal Hospital with midwifery training.”

“You were offered that a few years ago.”

“That’s what made it easier to use.” The deviousness surprises her more than how easy it was to use it. She is not this type of person and yet, here she is, lying through her teeth to do something she knew would be looked down upon.

Shelagh takes a shaky breath, her eyes wide with curiosity tinged with judgement. “What changed your mind to go back?”

Thinking back, she remembers telling herself over and over and over again that she should no longer concern herself with the cinema or Andrew, her time better spent buried within the dissipating need of the district. It worked for a while, at least until she had seen an intriguing advertisement. “The cinema in Greenwich had this summer series of past movies. One of them was ‘North by Northwest’.”

“The Alfred Hitchcock movie?”

“Yes.” She is quite surprised that Shelagh would know about that.

“Patrick and Timothy loves to watch Hitchcock movies on Saturday nights, but wait!” She holds up her hand. “How do you know about — oh.” She cowers under Shelagh’s piercing eyes. “He had told you that he enjoys thrillers and Hitchcock is famous for them.”

“I tried everything to make me forget that I ever saw it, yet, like a moth to a flame, I had gone that afternoon to the cinema.”

** June **

“Fancy seeing you here.” The feel of fluttering butterfly wings fills her belly at the sound of his voice. “I didn’t think that I would ever see you again.”

She had held out for two months.

Barely.

After the last movie she had seen with him and his invitation for tea, she had tried to run away to the Mother House, her need for solitude and prayer drowning heavily around her. Mother Mildred, however unveiled a new and ambitious plan to save Nonnatus House at the same time. While the work involved had helped to distract her, her traitorous feelings of vanity and desire were only buried, never amended.

Last night, before going off to compline, she had seen an advertisement in the evening paper for this showing. All throughout the evening and into the morning, she has felt this powerful pull from deep within her belly, the hunger only abating when she was on the number three bus into Greenwich.

Now, as she looks to Andrew with his sweeping blue eyes and kind smile, she can feel the anxiety sitting heavily on her shoulders beginning to dissipate into nothingness. “I have been quite… quite busy.”

He falls down into the seat next to her, his limb heavily folding in. “I had feared that I had offended you.”

“No,” she breathlessly sighs.

Five stagnant seconds pass within the crowded theater. “I find myself hoping to see you every time I walk in.”

She becomes completely overwhelmed with his honesty. Thankfully for her, the lights dim and the screen flickers to life. For the entire two hour movie, she can’t think of nothing else except his rushed words and how it feels to have them whispering within her caged heart.

There are many times she wonders why her. She is insignificant compared to the bustling array of women that come through those doors. What can she possibly give to him that would be worthwhile? Not to mention the fact that she serves as the head of household at Nonnatus House.

Yet, on the other end of the spectrum, her heart feels as if it is ready to burst if he were to move his hand just one centimeter to the left on their shared armrest.

With her muddled emotions shifting like sand in the middle, she goes from curious to angry to ashamed to flustered to amused as to the choices she has made thus far. _I’m a nun, for goodness sakes! Time and time again, I have chosen this path, not for its ease, but because it is what I am passionate about_. _There have been times_ , an image of Charlie comes to mind, _where I had chosen the religious life over that of my own desires. Why is it now that I am questioning it_?

The unexpected touch of the tip of his finger running along her knuckles jars her from her indulgent musings. “I would like to take you to the tea room near by.”

She blinks and is surprised to find that the theater is nearly empty. “I don’t think—”

“Please. I would like to explain myself before never seeing you again.”

She glances over to him, a great shadow settling along his expressive eyes. She should decline. She should make her way back to Nonnatus House, especially with her working day beginning in a few hours. She should amicably part ways with him right here, right now.

Yet, to her bewilderment, she acquiesces. “Very well.”

“Really?!” If she weren’t so confused herself, she would have found his expression quite funny.

She nods. “I can’t stay long.”

Standing, he helps her up and directs her out of the theater with his hand cupping the small of her back where it stays until they walk into a charming tea room, its walls lined with books of all colors and sizes. Asking for his ‘normal table’, he then ushers her towards the back where the books are sparse but the flower pots are plentiful with blooms of every color.

“It is quite pretty here.” _Vastly different than what is offered in Poplar_ , yet she keeps that to herself. Still, she can see Sister Monica Joan becoming lost in a tea room like this.

“Jean and I had found it a long time ago.” He settles down across from her. “They have a large collection of poetry. Many days we would find ourselves getting lost within the books and teacups.”

“How long ago did she pass away?”

“Eight years come November.” A young girl comes to them and places a chipped pot with a flower pattern on their table. “Since then, I go to the cinema twice or three times a month and I come here every afternoon.”

“That seems like a nice way to commemorate the life of your wife.”

When the young girl disappears behind a swinging door, he leans over his steaming cup. “And what about you? What brings you to Greenwich?”

She busies her trembling fingers with the sugar and milk. “I enjoy going to the cinema.”

“You live around here?”

“No.” Both guilt and apprehension collide against her throat. “I do have to be going soon.”

“The cinema is putting on a summer series of films.”

“I had seen in the paper.”

“I have it on high authority that next month they will be showing ‘South Pacific’. I was hoping that… that we can go together.” His eyes are bright and hopeful, slightly begging her to say yes.

She wants to say yes, _my god would I like nothing more_ , however, with it being a late showing, she knows that she would not be able to justify her reasoning for leaving Nonnatus House so late at night. _I have already lied enough_. “I’m sorry, I won’t be able to.”

“Oh,” his features somberly fall, “I apologize if I was untoward.”

“You were not,” she quickly replies. “I work at odd hours of the day and night.” At his confusion, she shyly supplies, “I’m a district midwife and nurse.” _And a nun_ , she silently adds in her mind.

“My goodness, such rewarding work.” Slowly, a small smile returns to his still sullen features. “My sisters were midwives right after the war.”

Glancing at the clock, she notices that she has ten minutes to walk to the bus stop, which is thankfully right down the street. “I will have to go soon.”

“Will I see you again?”

Her stomach clenches in apprehension. She doesn’t want to make promises, especially with the fate of Nonnatus House precarious at best.

He takes her silence as an answer. “I enjoy your company.” The tension leaves his shoulders in one deep sigh. She had seen people do this on many times when they are ready to confess all that has been troubling them. “I barely know you and I constantly find myself looking forward to seeing you at the cinema. It’s silly really, however, I am drawn to you.”

Her insecurities in her lack of beauty resurrects within her. “How?”

He timidly reaches out and covers her hand with his palm, a feeling so foreign to her blossoming within the cobwebbed caverns of her soul. “You are simply beautiful.”

His whispered words overwhelms her. Pulling her hand out from under his, she gathers her purse and stands. “I’m sorry. I have to leave.” Rushing out of the tea room, she doesn’t stop to breath until she makes it to the bus stop.

** Present **

Shelagh’s brow dips in compassion, almost as if she knows what is going to happen next. “You went, didn’t you? To see ‘South Pacific’?”

“I was unable to think of anything else. It just so happened that Nurse Franklin, Nurse Crane, and Sister Frances went to Nurse Khatun’s home for a traditional Indian meal while Sister Hilda and Nurse Anderson were manning the telephone.”

“Your evening was free.”

She slams her eyes shut to help keep her tears at bay. “I had told them that I was going to sit with a dying man and his family.”

** July **

_I must be out of my mind_ , she repeats over and over in her mind as she rushes through the crowded street to reach the ticket booth. When she sees the long line, she wilts, the wind now wiping around her second-hand clothes. Checking her watch, she panics when she sees that the movie is scheduled to begin in five minutes. Impatiently counting the people in front of her, she knows that it’ll take longer than that time to go through eleven people, yet, there is nothing else for to do.

 _I could go home._ That decision has weighed heavily on her shoulders, however, she has been given every opportunity to turn around and she hasn’t. _Not when I had taken the clothes out of the charity box to smuggle them with me, not when I brushed my hair before leaving, not when I had lied to my sisters as to my whereabouts, not when I was on the bus, and certainly not now_.

“You’re here!” She feels his hand slip into hers before she can turn around. “I had hoped…,” he pulls her out of line and captures her other hand.

“I wasn’t going to come,” she confesses.

He squeezes her hands, his excited energy being felt through his trembling breath. “Tickets for ‘South Pacific’ are already sold out.”

“Oh.” While she is slightly disappointed, she finds her soul filled with optimism.

“I can take you to the tea room.” When she glances back at the ticket booth, he whispers close to her ear, “It’s either that or ‘Doctor Who and the Daleks’.”

She laughs under her breath, an image of Sister Monica Joan’s sheer delight at the absurd television program both a comfort to her heart and a catalyst to a building wave of shame. “Tea room it is.”

Wrapping her arm around his elbow, he escorts her to the same tea room she had abruptly left just a month prior. When they are seated with the promise of tea from a different young girl, he holds out his hand for her to take.

With timid fingers, she accepts his appeal, the warmth of his palm inviting.

“Why did you change your mind? I thought for sure that I would never see you again.”

“I was set on never coming here again, however, I had sat with a dying man and his wife last evening.” She remembers the way they had clung to each other as the end came near. She had told him that she will always love him. He had told her that he’ll save a seat for her on the other side. When the undertakers had come to take him away, a thought so wretched and sad had infiltrated her mind and refused to leave; _who will hold my hand when it is time for me to leave this mortal world_? “I thought about you and the way I left. I didn’t want it to end that way.”

Before Andrew can respond, their young waitress sets a tray down on the table. “Does this mean that I will continue to see you?”

“I… I don’t want to promise anything, but I too enjoy our time at the cinema.”

“Is it because of your work as a nurse?”

 _Among many other things_. “That has a lot to do with it.”

“Do you think we can still meet at the cinema?”

“I would like to.”

His thumb swipes along the curved joints of her worn knuckles, a mesmerizing feeling of weightlessness filling her chest. “I would like that, very much.”

** Present **

Shelagh’s features melt, a small smile stretching along her lips as if her eyes were literally in the shape of hearts. “You kept going.”

“Yes.” She remembers the look of sheer joy when she had walked into the cinema the following week. “I should have stopped.”

“Why do you think you kept going?”

While she has been asking herself that question for the past year, a clear and concise answer had always eluded her. Instead, in its place, were a million little reasons why, something she would have never fallen back on a few years prior.

“Was he your only reason?”

“No.” She is certain of that. “After our missed opportunity to see ‘South Pacific’, he had become my main purpose for going, however, in the beginning, it was a culmination of many reasons.”

“Such as?”

“The change of times, the lack of need for district nursing or midwives, the fate of Nonnatus House, I even find the change of landscape with the new buildings and roads souring my mood. I feel as if everything is changing around me and I am barely able to keep up. The younger women of the area look to us as if we are a curiosity and a nuisance. There are times I find myself understanding why.”

“No!”

“We are from an older generation, one where our youth was spent doused in fear while the world was at war. The youth of today never had to experience such fear. They are living their lives to the fullest, a life full of love and adventure.”

“Do you feel cheated that you never had that?”

She shakes her head. “Never cheated. That would imply that I was ashamed for choosing this life when I’m not.” Her fingers dig into her knuckles. “I just wonder if I am missing out on something spectacular. I feel… I feel as if...”

“You feel as if God has given you a window and your just staring out of it because you are too afraid to open it.” Shelagh reaches out, her words touching a tender spot within her soul. “Why didn’t you come to me earlier?”

“You had your own worries to contend with.”

“I know how you are feeling right now, that ache of wanting something more battling with the guilt of letting the people you love down.”

“I didn’t want it to be true,” she confesses on a whisper.

“But it is true, the only difference is that you have someone to confide to and to help you when you feel as if you are drowning.” She squeezes her hand and gives her a hopeful smile. “Has your relationship gone any further?”

“Yes.” The silence that fills the room eludes to more. “He had kissed me.”

“On the hand?”

Her cheeks flush bright red. “No.”

“Oh.”

** October **

“That movie was quite…,” she stumbles with her words as he helps he with her coat.

“Yes it was,” he murmurs close to her ear.

Shivering as his warm breath caresses her cheek, she steps out from his loose embrace and turns to face him. “Shall we?”

For one second, blink and it’s gone, longing sits heavily within his blue eyes. Holding out his arm, she timidly takes it and he escorts her down the street towards the tea room. “You know, there is one thing that has been on my mind since we had seen ‘Sherlock Holmes’.”

“Just one thing,” she can’t help but quip to ease the growing tension, “since August?”

He playfully squeezes her arm. “For someone so quiet, you can be quite cheeky.”

She laughs at that one. She’s been called many things in her lifetime, yet ‘cheeky’ has never been one of them. “Is that the one thing on your mind, because if it is—”

“I still don’t know your name.”

She’s made sure to keep it that way. Somehow, she has it in her mind that if she were to offer him that one little piece of information, then it would solidify their relationship, that it would become tangible for the world to see. “Louise.” She bites down on her unruly tongue. By now, it has bite marks permanently etched in it.

“Louise? Louise.” She glances up to find his smile wild. “It suits you.”

“Hmm.”

Pulling her into a small alleyway next to the tea room, she is far to mesmerized by the abundance of vines and flowers to see him cupping her cheek until it is too late. “It’s beautiful just like you.”

She knows that she should take a step back, to put some much needed space between their humming bodies, however, her legs refuse to work. “Andrew,” she tries to warn, but it comes out soft and gentle like his eyes. _Always his eyes_.

He slants in and kisses her with impossibly tender lips. Her world, which had been so small, bursts open like an eager flower on a warm spring day. When he leans back, his thumb continues to caress her bottom lip. “That has been on my mind for far too long.”

The pull to step back into his embrace is too magnetic. She wants nothing more that to be wrapped within his arms, to feel the touch of his lips on hers, to get lost within the oceans of his eyes.

At that precise time, the bells of Saint Alfege begins to ring, bringing with it the realization who she is and the life she has been hiding. Taking a step back and allowing the cooler air to engulf her, she turns and runs out of the alley.

** Present **

Shelagh just stares at her, her eyes slowly blinking as she processes all that she has told her. Taking a deep breath, she quietly asks, “When did this happen?”

“A week ago.”

“And he still doesn’t know that you are a nun?”

She defiantly lifts her chin. “Should that matter?”

“Secrets have the power to destroy everything.”

Her defiance easily slips into humility when she remembers when Shelagh was battling the secrets that threatened to pull apart her own marriage. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“How do you feel about all of this?”

“I don’t know.” Rage suddenly surges inside her. “I don’t know!” She looks up towards the ceiling for divine intervention. “Andrew… he makes me feel,” she lets out a breathless sigh, “like nothing I had ever felt before. It’s exciting and new and lovely and I never want to let it go.” She feels her heart deflate. “But then I think about our sisters and the Order and the people of our community and I feel…,” she closes her eyes, her tears lazily falling down her cheeks. “I feel as if I am letting them down, that I can no longer give spiritual advice because I am living a life of sin and greed and vanity.”

After Shelagh wipes away her tears, she opens her eyes. “I have a suggestion, but it is only as such.”

She nods, completely lost on how to navigate the dark and unfamiliar roads ahead of her.

“Tomorrow, after your meeting with the housing council, go to him at the tea room. Tell him everything, including your life as a nun.” She gently squeezes her hand. “It will be the hardest conversation you will ever have. After, no matter what he decides to do, go to the Mother House in Chichester and take some time to think and to pray.”

Before she agrees to the plan, the front door opens to Doctor Turner coming in, the air blustery and wild behind him. “The temperature has dropped even more from when I had – oh! Hello Sister Julienne.”

Both women stand, Shelagh going off to help her husband while she busies herself with cleaning their tea cups.

“I have dinner in the oven for you, dear.”

He gives her a kiss on the cheek. “I am so lucky to have you.”

Bringing the tray to the kitchen, she murmurs to Shelagh, “I must be going.”

“I will drive you home, Sister.”

She turns to Doctor Turner and gives him a smile that feels empty. “You’ve only just come home. Besides, the cool air will feel invigorating.”

“Your meeting with the housing council is coming up tomorrow morning.” His smile is kind, but not as handsome as Andrew’s. “We need to have you in top shape to win your case to keep Nonnatus House standing.”

“Please, Sister, Patrick will take you home.”

“Very well.”

“Please let me know if you need anything.” Shelagh helps her with her coat. “You already have my prayers,” she quietly whispers.

“Thank you, my dear Shelagh.” Walking out, she wraps her arms around her body to keep her warm and folds herself into the car.

“Tomorrow, I will bring your bicycle back to Nonnatus House.” Their drive back is immersed in a comfortable silence for most of the ride there. “It has been quite a few months since you began your vigorous campaign to keep Nonnatus House open. Are feeling confident?”

“I want to say that all is right in the world, but then I would be lying.” It is vague and rather depressing, however, her desire to keep up with polite conversation is overwhelming to say the least. 

“I remember feeling quite nervous defending the surgery and gaining access to the TB van, all of which I would not have been able to do without Shelagh’s help.” He speaks as if he knows from experience.

She can't help but to think about what the TB van had brought to their small lives. “Sister Bernadette,” she finds herself softly murmuring, the woman now nothing like what she was eight years ago. 

“I found myself thanking God for winning that battle at acquiring the TB van.” He laughs to himself. “I remember wanting nothing more than to sweep her off her feet both before and after her diagnosis.”

She smiles. “I remember that you were like a corded ball of energy. Sister Evangelina had suggested that you had found someone that had ruffled your feathers. Little did we know that not only was she right, but that it was with our own Sister Bernadette.”

He stops the car in front of the steps. “I’m not sorry.”

“No,” she whispers, “you shouldn’t be.”

“Goodnight, Sister.”

“Goodnight, doctor. Thank you for driving me home.”

Disappearing behind the thick wooden door, she makes her way to the chapel. Falling down into the chair close to the alter, she clasps her hands in continual prayers, begging and pleading for an answer. _Yet, if there is anything that I have learned from this evening is that any decisions that are made can only come from me_.

“Hello, Sister.”

She turns to find Sister Frances timidly passing through the door, her bible clutched against her robed body. “Hello. What brings you down here so late at night?”

“You missed compline.”

Guilt claws against her chest. “There were a few matters I had to discuss with Mrs. Turner.”

She bites down on her bottom lip, her eyes wide and innocent. “Are you feeling well?”

“I am…,” she swallows hard, “I am experiencing a crisis of faith and confusion at the moment.”

“Look for the ray of sunshine.”

“Excuse me?”

“Whenever I would be down about something, my mother used to tell me to look for the ray of sunshine.”

“And what if there are nothing but clouds?”

“It doesn’t mean that the sunshine is gone, it just means you have to look a little harder or to be a little more patient.”

“It sounds like your mother is a strong woman.”

“She had to be when she lost nearly her whole family during the war.” Sister Frances gives her a shy smile. “Would you mind if I prayed for you?”

“It is very comforting to know.”

Her younger sister stands. “Goodnight, Sister Julienne. I hope you find your ray of sunshine soon.”

 _Me too_. “Thank you, Sister Frances.”

** The next day **

_My plan set_. She paces in front of the door leading into the where the council meeting is to take place. _Council meeting first, leave instructions for Sister Hilda, change my clothes, find Andrew at the tea room, tell him everything, and leave for the Mother House_. Anxiety crawls through her fingers as both the nuns and nurses wait for council reporter to invite them in.

“I hope this is enough,” Nurse Anderson whispers.

“It shall and will always be the will of God.” Everyone turns to find Mother Mildred giving them a confident smile. “When the Lord closes a door, he always opens a window.”

“You’ve come!”

“I’ve come to support and give guidance.” She holds up a few pieces of paper. “I also prepared a small speech just in case it is needed.”

“It is very much needed,” she lets out a small sigh of appreciation. She doesn’t have faith in the speech she had drafted herself, her mind on completely different matters making it hard for her to focus.

Nurse Franklin captures her shoulder. “Yours is a absolutely divine.”

“Excuse me, ladies and sisters.” The council report widens the door. “The councilmen will see you.”

They file in and settle on the hard, wooden chairs.

Pulling out her speech, she reads over it a few more times while the necessities have been met with following meeting decorum and the introduction of the councilmen. When it’s time for her to make her speech, she stands and walks up to the podium.

Just as she introduces herself, a small intake of breath steals her attention away from the paper in hand. It is there, she finds a familiar set of blue eyes staring back at her.

 _Andrew_!

Her will to speak leaves in one gust of a sigh, her need to be there now escaping her memory as she stares at the very man she was hoping to see much later in the afternoon.

“Sister Julienne, are you well?”

Gathering herself with trembling knees and shuffled notes, she nods. “I am well, however, the state of our community is not. As much as you build up new buildings and pave new roads, there is still a population of hard working people who have no access to the care they need.” She ignores him completely, although she can feel his eyes staring into her soul, exposing her for the world to see.

After her speech is complete, Mother Mildred comes up next to give her own words of damnation if the council were to choose to close Nonnatus House for good. They end the meeting with more letters from grateful patients and boxes of signed petitions from almost three thousand people, their labor of love and devotion laying on the wide table for all to see.

By the time the lead councilman strikes his gavel to adjourn the meeting so that they can make their vote, she is out of her seat and rushing to the bathroom. She grips the sink as she tries to control her labored breath.

The door swings open behind her. “You did a phenomenal job, Sister.” Both Sister Hilda and Mother Mildred surrounds her, their presence very overwhelming.

“I fear it was not enough.”

“I think,” she leans into the touch of Mother Mildred’s cool fingers to her forehead, “that no matter the outcome, I would like for you to come to Chichester and convalesce from all the hard work you had put into this ambitious plan.”

Sister Hilda pats her shoulder. “I would be happy to notify the Royal Hospital on your behalf.”

“The Royal Hospital?” Mother Mildred looks to her. “Why would you need to notify them?”

“Oh,” Sister Hilda looks between both older women, “I thought you had informed her of your job of training new nurses.”

“I have not been informed.” Mother Mildred straightens to her full height, her displeasure evident. “Why would you keep something like that from us?”

“I… I had lied,” she confesses on a whisper. She turns away, the confidence of witnessing her own car crash in slow motion leaving her. “I was given several cinema tickets from the son of an old friend. That is where I have been going.”

“Ci… cinema tickets?!” Sister Hilda huffs in disbelief.

“Sister Hilda, can you please leave us?” In a stagnant moment, she hears the bathroom door swing open and close with a resounding click.

“This is something I would expect from a novice, not from you.” Mother Mildred’s voice is the epitome of displeasure and hurt. “We will discuss your transgression when you come to Chichester.”

Nurse Crane pokes her head in. “They are back with their verdict.”

“I will take care of Sister Hilda while you are expected to take the next train out.” Without so much as a confirmation from her, Mother Mildred walks out.

Silently following her out, she is the last one to walk into the room. She can instantly feel his eyes on her, yet she ignores him. With the truth of her lies beginning to seep out, there is no need for her to make her way to the tea room anymore.

“While you have made a strong point in your reason to keep your building from being demolished, the wheels of progress must keep turning. Nonnatus House will stay standing for one more year and at half the cost of rent, however by next December, it will be demolished. In that time, the housing council will look into and provide a list of viable options for alternative locations for the Sisters of Saint Raymond Nonnatus.” The lead councilman strikes his gavel. “Our meeting is adjourned at 10:41 in the morning.”

 _There it is_. The activity around is is remorseful and despondent. _Look for the ray of sunshine_.

She glances up to find Andrew looking at her, his confusion evident in the dip of his brows. Yet, there, just beyond, she still sees the same kindness she has come to adore. Standing, she helps Sister Monica Joan out of her chair and escorts her into the hall.

“That could have been worse.” Nurse Anderson walks along side Nurse Crane. “They at least gave us another year and will provide recommendations for new housing.”

“They are just feeling guilty for kicking a bunch of nurses and nuns out onto the street,” Nurse Franklin mumbles.

“They are giving us time to walk out with our dignity.”

“Some with more than others,” Sister Hilda murmurs under her breath.

“That is enough, Sister Hilda.” Both Mother Mildred and Sister Hilda face each other in a test of wills, each as stubborn as the next.

However, it is Mother Mildred who wins this battle. “I’m sorry, Mother Mildred.”

“I will speak to you privately when we take tea back to Nonnatus House.” The sisters fold into Fred’s waiting van while the nurses file into Nurse Crane’s car. The drive back is stagnant, the sound of life cheerfully progressing outside in the streets far too oppressive on their crushing hearts.

When they walk into the building they call their home for the next year, they somberly make their way towards the dining room to take their tea. They tell Sister Frances and Nurse Khatun of the final ruling.

She refuses to take her tea, shame at her behavior sitting heavily upon her shoulders, especially when both Sister Hilda and Mother Mildred refuses to look at her.

“Sister,” Nurse Franklin captures her hand, “if you don’t mind me saying, you don’t look very well.”

It’s time for her to come clean, to confess what has been aching within her heart for the past year. “I have been lying to everyone in this room.”

“Sister Julienne,” Mother Mildred calls out to her, “I must see you in your office immediately.”

She ignores her. “I have not been training new nurses at Royal Hospital.” The silence swallows her whole as she finds the courage to confess to her sin to the women it affected the most. “I have been going to the cinema instead.”

“Finally, the secret of one makes its way towards the light.” She looks up to see Sister Monica Joan with a knowing smile.

There is a knock at the door and Nurse Khatun stands to answer it.

“I’m… I’m sorry…,” she stumbles through her whispered words, “I’m sorry if I have disappointed anyone.”

“You work so hard for this community,” Nurse Franklin pats her hand, “it should be stated in law that you are to be given some time off to do as you please.”

“While the sentiment is appreciated, we are nuns, Nurse Franklin.” Mother Mildred pushes her tea cup towards the middle. “And as such, Sister Julienne will be taken to the Mother House immediately to convalesce and to think about her next course of action.”

“You can’t leave!” All those around the table look up to the new male voice in the room.

Mother Mildred rolls her eyes at the intrusion. “Who are you?”

“I am one of the members from housing council.” The sweep of his eyes fills her with an unexplainable feeling, one that is too fragile to touch for fear that it would crumble. “You can’t leave.”

Catching on rather quickly to their glowing affection, Mother Mildred makes her way towards Andrew. “She is our responsibility and I must insist that you take your leave.”

Standing from her chair, she quickly makes her way around the table, the surprise of all now palatable. “Please, Mother Mildred, allow me to walk him out.”

Her eyes squint as she looks between the both of them. “You will be on the train to Chichester at two o’clock.” It is not a request, but an order, one that she knows she will have to follow despite Andrew’s own wishes.

“Yes.” And before he can utter another syllable, she grabs Andrew by the elbow and escorts him to the back door leading out to their garden allotment. “Andrew, I am sorry for not being honest with your earlier.”

“I don’t care what you are!” He captures his shoulders. “I want you to stay here.” His blue eyes are magnetic, captivating her very breath. "You belong here, if not for me, but for this community."

“I can’t. I am to go to Chichester.” The warmth of his hands can be felt through the heavy weight of her habit. “I was my intention to meet you at the tea room and tell you everything.”

“Even in a wimple, you are very beautiful.” His fingers thread along the frayed lining of her wimple. “How long will you be at Chichester?”

“I’m not sure.”

He caresses her cheek with the back of his fingers, her heart skipping a beat. “Is it selfish of me to want you to come back as Louise?”

While there is a small part of her that would like nothing more, she knows that there is more to to her decision than simply saying yes or no. “It’s not that easy.”

The tip of his nose brushing along her own ignites a fire deep within her belly. “Will I be able to write to you?”

“That would not be encouraged.” Mother Mildred’s voice reverberates off of the stone walls.

She takes a step away from him, gulping down the cool air that surrounds them. “I will not be able to read them and they will go unanswered.”

“I see.” His voice is more determined rather than indifferent, almost as if he has already thought of a plan to get around that pesky rule. Stealing himself, he turns to Mother Mildred. “She had done nothing untoward.”

“She lied to her sister as to her whereabouts, she had taken a gift and used it for her own personal gain, and she had built a relationship with a man outside of the confines to her responsibilities as spiritual leader. All of these acts are not permitted in the religious order.”

He defiantly lifts his chin. “I can offer her love.”

“Young man, in my lifetime, I have seen many forms of love, from the birth of a child to the bruises of a drunk husband. Love is beautiful and can be quite intoxicating, however, while it will nourish the soul, it will not feed the body.” Mother Mildred waves her hand through the air just as he takes a formidable breath. “She will be given time to think and reflect and pray and, in the end, it will be her sole decision to return either as Sister Julienne or Louise. You have my promise.” And with her promise, it also swiftly brings an end to their time.

He turns back to her, the tips of his fingers running along her palm. “At the cinema, they always play ‘Shop Around the Corner’ on Christmas Eve. I will be there in our usual seats. If I don’t see you, then I will know.” Lifting her hand, he kisses her knuckles. “Goodbye.”

“If you walk through, one of our sisters or nurses will show you out.”

“Thank you, Mother Mildred.” He bows at her and disappears within the shadows of her home.

“I’m sorry that I had—”

She stops when Mother Mildred hold up her hand. “Please do not mix pity with your regretful acknowledgement. You are only sorry that you were caught.” She stays obediently quiet. “Did it go any further than what I had witnessed here?”

“He had kissed me once.”

“Was it untoward?”

“No.”

“Did you respond in kind?”

“Yes.”

She lifts a brow in surprise. “Then it seems as if you have a lot to reflect on.”

“Mother Mildred,” she calls out just as her sister turns to walk into the house, “I genuinely never expected this to happen. I am sorry for any pain I have caused.”

“I’m curious, when Sister Bernadette had renounced her vows, did she say the same thing to you?”

She thinks back to their conversations both in the sanatorium and in her office at the old Nonnatus House. “Not necessarily the same words, but yes.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“I told her that the love she carries for a man is just as beautiful as the voice she had used to rejoice." Mother Mildred's eyes bores into her. "I also told her that it was I who should be sorry.” Her mouth dries, yet she keeps on. “If I had noticed that she was distressed earlier or I had made myself easily available, then maybe she would not have suffered as much as she did.”

“This has reached a point, that I should have seen that you were barely hanging on by a thread, that you were silently screaming at the top of your lungs.” Mother Mildred reaches out and captures her hand. “My only hope is that you can forgive me for not seeing it earlier and making myself available to help you when you needed it the most.”

“I should have been strong enough.”

“Neither your strength nor your loyalty to God will never be in question. We have all – all! – gone through times of great stress and confusion, that quarrel inside of us giving us a reason to live and keeping us humble. It is only natural to want to reach out to the people or places or things that makes us feel happy and loved. You found happiness and, dare I say it, love with your suitor.”

“I never purposefully sought out Andrew.”

“No, but he was and still is someone you look to to help fortify your need for happiness, just like Doctor Turner was for Sister Bernadette.” Mother Mildred gently squeezes her hand. “It is unfortunate that you have to make a choice between the safety of the life you can rely on and a man that can give you the possibility of happiness beyond.”

“I understand.”

“I’m sure you have been on the other end of this conversation many times. You know that it will not be an easy decision. However, know this, as you have said it to many women before, the choice should never be between God and Andrew, for both can live harmoniously together in your heart.”

“The choice will be between the life as Sister Julienne or the life as Louise.”

“While you are, in essence, both women, it is the lifestyles that will be different.”

“I understand.”

She pats her on the hand. “You will have to leave very soon. If you do not mind, I will need to use your office to make a few telephone calls.”

“Of course.”

Both women walk inside. “I will then leave Sister Hilda in charge to oversee both spiritual and nursing duties.”

“He will write letters.” The kitchen and the dining area is thankfully clear. “I dare say, he will try to come and visit.”

“If he were to leave this all to chance, then I would quickly suggest that he was never all that serious to begin with.” They stop at the door to her office. “However, that will be a conversation for another time.”

Silently nodding, she makes her way towards her room to pack for her stay at the Mother House.

“How could you confuse the succor of faith with the taming of flesh?” She is greeted by Sister Monica Joan sitting, withdrawn on her bed. “We have fought many battles together hand in hand. I never thought that you, of all women, would succumb to the shrewdness of the opposite sex.”

“While he has become an important factor in my life, it didn’t start out that way.”

Sister Monica Joan lifts her chin defiantly. “I shall forever place blame on young Julie Andrews and her foolish desire to sing upon a mountain.”

She settles down next to her. “It started before that, this feeling of discontentment.”

Sister Monica Joan looses much of her gusto. “Since your time at the Mother House just before Mother Jesu Emmanuel had passed, I had noticed you had come back rather subdued.”

“I was unexpectedly hit hard with the death of young Barbara Hereward.” Her chin dips down to her chest. “I had silenced my sorrow and buried it. Now that I look back, I should have done more to bring it out into the light.”

“The constant change taking place around us certainly does not soothe the tormented soul.”

She shakes her head. “We should be used to it by now.”

“This man, the one whom wishes not to see you leave—”

“Andrew.”

“He was able to bring your discontentment to light and to heal the scars you were too ashamed to confide in.”

“Sister—”

She holds up her hand, the wisdom of the world etched into one tiny wrinkle. “He appears to be, what our youngest sister laments, your ray of sunshine.” She pats her knee before standing. “However, that should not devalue that you are a ray of sunshine to many people here.”

Quite painfully, she swallows down the anguish that is threatening to bubble out of her. “In Greenwich, there is a tea room a few blocks down the road from the cinema. You will find that it is lovely and quite peaceful there.”

“I shall be the judge of that.” Sister Monica Joan walks out, leaving her in a disarray of jumbled thoughts and colluded feelings.

Climbing down upon her knees, she clasps her hands together and prays for both the forgiveness of those she loves and clarity to make a decision that she will not regret.

**Author's Note:**

> I am not sorry for this. There are some elements might be pretentious and out of character, but there are others that take on those two words I have always found fascinating, "what if?".
> 
> I intentionally left the ending open to interpretation. I have my own theories, however, I would like to know what you think would happen next.


End file.
